Potions
by Pyreflies Painter
Summary: <html><head></head>Romeo has taken the poison. Will Herondale... will you take the hate potion?</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Look, I know I should be working on Dust and Shadows, but I just got this idea after reading the PROLOGUE OF CLOCKWORK PRINCE and I just have to write it down! You should read the prologue first though, so you can understand, but for some reason, the link won't work so I'll just put it here in the author's note.**

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><p><em>Note: The booklet says "Text not final. <em>

**Prologue: The Outcast Dead**

The fog was thick, muffling sound and sight: where it parted, Will Herondale could see the street rising ahead of him, slick and wet and black with rain, and hear the voices of the dead.

Not all Shadowhunters could hear ghosts, unless the ghosts chose to be heard, but Will was one of those few who could. As he approached the old cemetery, their voices rose in a ragged musical chorus: wails and pleading, cries and snarls. This was not a peaceful burial ground, but Will knew that; it was not his first visit to the Cross Bones Graveyard near London Bridge. He did his best to block out the noises, hunching his shoulders so that his collar covered his ears, his head down, a fine mist of rain dampening his black hair.

The entrance to the cemetery was halfway down the block: a pair of wrought iron gates set into a high stone wall. Any mundane passing by could see the thick chains that bound the gates shut, and the sign declaring the premises closed— it had been fifteen years since a body was buried here, but the place itself remained, as yet undesecrated. As Will neared the gates, something no mundane would have seen materialized out of the fog: a great bronze knocker in the shape of a hand, the fingers bony and skeletal. With a grimace, Will reached out one of his own gloved hands and lifted the knocker, letting it fall once, twice, three times, the hollow clank resounding through the night like the rattling chains of Marley's ghost.

For several long moments, nothing happened. Beyond the gates, Will saw mist, rising like steam from the ground, obscuring the grave markers and long, uneven plots of earth between them. Slowly the mist began to rise and coalesce, taking on an eerie blue glow. Will put his hands to the bars of the gate; the cold of the metal seeped through his gloves, into his bones, and he shivered. It was a more than ordinary cold— when ghosts rose, they drew energy from their surroundings, depriving the air and space around them of heat. The hairs of the back of Will's neck prickled and stood up as the blue mist swirled, forming slowly into the shape of an old woman, in a ragged dress and white apron, her head bent.

"Hallo, Mol," said Will. "You're looking particularly fine this evening, if I do say so."

The ghost raised her head. Old Molly was a strong spirit, one of the stronger Will had encountered. Even as moonlight speared through a gap in the clouds, she hardly looked transparent; her body was solid, her hair twisted in a thick yellow-gray coil over one shoulder, her rough, red hands braced on her hips. Only her eyes were hollow, twin blue flames flickering in their depths.

"William Herondale," she said. "Back again so soon?"

She moved toward the gate with that gliding motion peculiar to ghosts. Her feet were bare and filthy, despite the fact that they never touched the ground.

Will leaned against the gate. "You know I missed your pretty face."

She grinned, her eyes flickering, and he caught a glimpse of the skull beneath the half-transparent skin. Overhead, the clouds had closed in on each other again, black and roiling, blocking out the moon. Idly, Will wondered what Old Molly had done to get herself buried here, far from consecrated ground. Most of the whispering voices of the dead belonged to prostitutes, suicides, and stillbirths— those outcast dead who could not be buried in a churchyard. Although Molly had managed to make the situation quite profitable for herself, so perhaps she didn't mind.

She chortled. "What d'you want then, young Shadowhunter? Malphas venom? I have the talon of a Morax demon, polished very fine, the poison at the tip entirely invisible—"

"No," Will said. "That's not what I need. I need Foraii demon powders, ground fine."

If a ghost could have paled, Old Molly would have paled; as it was, she seemed to flicker as Will spoke, like the flame of a candle at an open window. When he was done, she turned her head aside and spat a tendril of blue fire.

Will exhaled, his breath turning to mist on the cold air. "Surely," he said, "that's not the worst thing anyone's ever paid you for, Old Mol."

It was always like this. She argued, and then she gave in eventually. Magnus had already sent Will to Old Mol several times now, once for black stinking candles that stuck to his skin like tar, once for the bones of an unborn child, and once for a bad of faeries' eyes which had dripped blood on his shirt. Foraii demon powder sounded pleasant by comparison.

She slid her hands into the pouch at the front of her apron. When she removed them, she was holding a faded cloth bag, tied with a scrap of dirty ribbon. She shook her head slowly. "You think I'm a fool," she said, hoarsely. "This is a trap, innit? You Nephilim catch me selling that sort of stuff, an' it's the stick for Old Mol, it is."

"You're _already_ dead." Will did his best not to sound irritable. "I don't know what you think the Clave could do to you now."

"Pah." Her hollow eyes flamed. "The prisons of the Silent Brothers, beneath the earth, can hold either the living or the dead; you know that, Will Herondale."

Will held his hands up. "No tricks, old one. Surely you must have the rumors running around Downworld. The Clave has other things on its mind than tracking down ghosts who traffic in demon powders and faerie blood." He leaned forward. "I'll give you a good price." He drew a cambric bag from his pocket and dangled it in the air. It clinked like coins rattling together. "They all fit your description, Mol."

An eager look came over her dead face, and she solidified enough to take the bag from him. She plunged one hand into it and brought her palm out full of rings— gold wedding rings, each tied in a lover's knot at the top. Old Mol, like many ghosts, was always looking for that talisman, that lost piece of her past that would finally allow her to die, the anchor that kept her trapped in the world. In her case, it was her wedding ring. It was common belief, Magnus had told Will, that the ring was long gone, buried under the silty bed of the Thames, but in the meantime she'd taken any bag of found rings on the hope one would turn out to be hers. So far it hadn't happened.

She dripped the rings back into the bag, which vanished somewhere on her undead person, and handed him a folded sachet of powder in return. He slipped it into his jacket pocket just as the ghost began to shimmer and fade. "Hold up there, Mol. That isn't all I have come for, to-night."

The spirit flickered while greed warred with her innate sense of self-preservation. Finally, she grunted. "Very well. What else d'you want?"

Will hesitated. This was not something Magnus had sent him for; it was something he wanted to know for himself. "Love potions—"

Old Mol screeched with laughter. "_Love potions_? For Will Herondale? T'aint my way to turn down payment, but any man who looks like you has got no need of love potions, and that's a fact."

"No," Will said, a little desperation in his voice, "I was looking for the opposite, really— something that might put an end to being in love."

"An 'atred potion?" Mol sounded amused.

"I was hoping for something more akin to indifference? Toleration…?"

She made a snorting noise, astonishingly human for a ghost. "I 'ardly like to tell you this, Nephilim, but if you want a girl to 'ate you, there's easy enough ways of making it 'appen. You don't need _my_ help with the poor thing."

And with that, she vanished, spinning away into the mists among the graves. Will, looking after her, sighed. "Not for her," he said, under his breath, though there was no one to hear him, "for _me_…" and he leaned his head against the cold iron gate.

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><p><strong>Massive Gasp.<strong>

**Disclaimer: I know. I'm not Cassandra Clare.**

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><p>-Potions-<p>

He was about to leave when he heard a fit of laughter and Will Herondale looked up to find Old Molly back, the blue fire of her eyes flickering in delight and for sure, amusement. "I heard you Will Herondale." an ugly grin spread across her face. "That potion you were asking was for _you_."

He was shocked for a fraction of a second, but regained his composure and Will found himself wishing he never said his words out loud.

Old Molly laughed once again and, much to Will's surprise, reached into the pocket of her apron and drew out a vial in which the contents glowed an ugly black colour. "An 'atred potion for you." she said and she was about to hand it to him- and he was sure of taking it -when she held up a finger and her ugly grin only got wider, showing two rows of her rotten teeth. "But first, you must tell me why you need this potion. Why in the world would Will Herondale- falling in love -want to get rid of his feelings."

He knew that he shouldn't tell the truth so he lied in a convincing way. "Because I want true love to remain only within myself." he smiled and Old Molly frowned. _Did she see through me?_ Will worried but did not let his guard fall. It would be unwise to do so.

The clouds have now pulled back and moonlight splashed over Old Molly, showing her face which clearly said that she was not fooled. "Don't lie to me boy. I am not idiot." her frown turned to a sneer. "I can smell lies within you, thousands of it. I can smell your feelings. Yes..." she trailed off as she put the potion back in her apron and gave him one last glance with her flickering eyes before turning around and started shimmering away.

Desperate, he called out for her. "Wait" the ghost's shimmering stopped and Old Molly started solidifying once again. "I'll tell you." he gave up with a sigh and Old Molly turned with a disbelieving look. "But you musn't tell anyone." he gave her a serious face as the ghost fully faced him.

Suddenly, a cold wind blew across Cross Bones Graveyard and Will could smell the faint salty smell of the Thames River as well as the rotting dead in the graveyard. He shivered under his coat but it was not just the cold. He shivered at his memories. "I can smell fear within you." Old Molly's words brought him back to reality and Will was taken aback. "I don't want it. Whatever causes fear in William Herondale, is not something I want to hear." she said with a frown and reached into her apron. She took out the potion again and held it in front of him. "Take it and go. But you must remember that this potion, no matter how strong, can _never_ eradicate love but only give an illusion of hatred for nothing can _ever_ destroy true and everlasting love."

_If that's the case... Should I still take it?_ Will thought as he stared at the vial. Its smooth surface glinted against the moonlight and, staring at it, Will just noticed that the contents emanated a black glow that brushed the inside of the glass. It looked terrible, like demon ichor. However, it could give him a chance to protect the person that matters to him more than anyone else in this world, even Jem.

In fact, he never envisioned such thing to happen to him.

With shaking hands,...

... he took the vial.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: TADA! Hey guys! First of all, I would love to thank everyone who reviewed this fanfic and I would just like to say that I love you all. Secondly, I thought about continuing this and I went "Oh well." Shrugged and typed. Now here it is! I hope you all like it and please review to tell me if it's good. I worry when I do these types of stuff. **

**Anyways, here's the continuation!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. Isn't it always the same thing? Me, you, all of us in fanfic. We all can't be Cassandra Clare because there's only one Cassandra Clare and I don't think she even has a fanfic account.**

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><p>-Potions-<p>

He took in sharp ragged breaths as he scrunched his eyes closed and _willed_ himself to not run to Tessa's room, wrench open her door, take her in his arms and apologise to her.

This was what he wanted and for sure, the potion was working.

That attraction was lost, to be replaced by pure hatred. For weeks he'd been avoiding her giving her his darkest of glares- however unconsciously due to the potion -and whenever he crossed her, he'd turn away and walk back the way he came from. There was even one time when he'd come from demon hunting and he'd seen her. He had drank the potion even then and he was sure of this grim fact. He would have sliced her up right then and there with his still blazing seraph blade if Jem wasn't there to take Tessa away in an instant after seeing his murderous expression. That night, he came to his senses in his room and punched the wall of his room- repeatedly -in stupidity. Right now, he had done the same thing only with more aggression at what he had done recently.

With the moonlight washing over him in the dark attic where they had shared those passionate kisses- which he truly yearned for -you could see the red spots blossoming around his knuckles and the dents he had created on the floor. There were also half-inch thick splinters protruding from his fists at a ghastly angle, a red fluid dripping from it.

At dinner, he had yelled at her, oblivious to what he was doing. He just stood there and started swearing at her. He even swore at everyone else and knocked the plates over. He remembered their faces and their expressions. Charlotte gaping at him in shock and hurt, Henry staring wide-eyed and unable to speak. Jessamine with an expression that clearly said she never expected him- no matter how mad she knew he was -to do such a thing. There was also Sophie who cowered behind Jem who only stood there, a blank expression in his face as he squeezed Tessa's trembling hand.

And Tessa. Words could not describe the expression on her face. The only thing he knew was that she looked like she was on the verge of tears but Tessa- Tessa who always tried her best to be strong -forced them back in order to show him how she did not care when she truly did.

And he, he just kept on yelling until he decided to leave for the attic but not before leaving with the harshest words he ever thought he could say to all of them. On his way out, he heard someone start crying and no. It still was not Tessa, but Charlotte and Will grinned at what he had caused. He was happy then but now, he could just look at the memory in such sickness that made him want to throw up.

Once again, he brought his fist upon the floor and he could feel one of the splinters push further into his flesh, sending a wave of dizzying pain he devoured in order to repent for his sins- which could _never_ even be forgiven -that the Devil truly loved to see him commit.

He knew he had made a mistake.

He also knew that there was no turning back.

He turned his head and looked at the empty vial on the floor, the moonlight washing its surface making it glimmer. He had consumed the last of the horrid thing and he was happy he had. Now that it was all gone, he could just go back to silence and no one would bother him for he knew that they would all stay away from him now.

Which is exactly what he wanted.

Suddenly, the attic door flew open and Will looked up in shock to see a familiar figure in the doorway.

Silver hair and eyes. Jem Carstairs.

And he had a murderous look in his face- which Will _never_ thought was possible -that oddly mirrored an avenging angel's.

"What have you done?" the boy asked in concern as he beheld the sight before him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi! How's everyone? Anyways, I want to make this author's note quick and sharp.  
>Summary is I'm back and am writing. I hope I can finish this story within my two-week break, but I'll see about that. I have two other writing projects.<br>****Still though, I hope you all love this and thanks so much to everyone who have supported the story so far. **

**:)**

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare.**

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><p>-Potions-<p>

Jem- with the murderous expression still painted on his face- strode towards his _parabatai_, seized Will's collar and dragged him upright so the boy was half-sitting down and half-standing up. 'For the Angel's sake William!' Jem threw the blue-eyed boy back down and Will could only look back at the silver-haired boy in front of him. Not even when his head collided against a thick wooden beam and felt something warm blossom at the back of his head.

Never, even when he did try to anger him, had he seen his friend like this.

Gentle Jem Carstairs with bright, burning silver eyes, flushed cheeks and clenched teeth. His chest rose up and down in suppressed anger. The cane in his hand was gripped tightly and the blue-eyed boy wondered why he had taken it with him. Perhaps to give him a beating, but he can never see Jem being so vile and barbaric. In fact, everything about him right then looked terribly wrong and for a moment, Will thought about what he had just done.

Jem raised his shaking hand and pointed at him in an accusing manner. 'You...' he trailed off, probably looking for the right words. "You left Charlotte crying, Henry hopeless, Jessamine and Sophie looking like a lost child, me wondering what in the world just happened and Tessa-' he stopped abruptly and his shaking hand dropped as he turned away from Will. As if the sight of his friend disgusted him. 'I don't even know how to start with her. She just left.' His voice lost all trails of emotion. Will said nothing in reply.

Silence.

All that Will knew was that he was looking at his friend and that the expression on his own face must've been one of shock. Other than that, _Will Herondale_ could not say anything. Would this have been a different situation- a much lighter one not involving misery -he would have made a sarcastic remark. But no. It definitely was not.

Finally, Jem kneeled beside him with a groan. His fingers let go of their grip of the dragon-head cane and it rolled around the wooden attic floor and came to a stop a few metres away. Jem then took Will's right hand and stared at the splinters and blood in horror. 'And then there's you.' His voice echoed around the attic. Will looked at Jem to find his anger to have dissipated in despair. 'What happened?' He asked as he lightly touched one of the half-inch thick splinters. His fingers glided-

Jem pulled the splinter out so suddenly that Will drew in a sharp breath as white-hot pain coursed throughout him. He scrunched his eyes closed as Jem continued on taking out the splinters on his right hand. As Will opened his eyes again, he saw the stele glimmer as Jem took it out of his pocket and pressed the tip against Will's skin and started drawing an _iratze_. The burning sensation was a sharp contrast against the cold of the attic.

His friend let go of his hand and took the other one and, already, Will could feel the wounds and the pain fade away. But there was one injury that could never fade away. One deep laceration that could not be cured by any medicine nor _iratze_ rune.

Guilt.

Charlotte's cries echoed at the back of his mind. Tessa's face. Everyone's face.

Will leaned his head back as he watched his friend tend to his wounds. 'I was afraid,' he began and his voice was in much the same condition as his hands. Broken. 'That was why I took that potion.' Jem gave him a bewildered look and Will motioned with his head towards the vial. His friend let go of his _iratze_d hand and made his way towards the vial. He picked it up and scowled at it. 'I had no choice. It was the only way out.' Will continued to mumble and the boy himself could not comprehend why he was confessing. He just hoped he'd be able to control himself before he went on about the past.

In fact, how distant he felt right then. His mind felt disconnected from his body. He felt very numb and very tired indeed. 'This is a hate potion isn't it?' Jem asked as he stared at the glass. Will also noticed the way he held it. His hands were shaking and his knuckles were white as if at any given moment, the vial would crack and shatter into a million pieces. 'Why Will? Didn't you even think for a moment of the consequences? Did you not know that with this-' he held the vial in the air, '-you'd hurt everyone.' Jem stared at Will for a few more seconds, then an understanding look came across his face. 'I see. It was only for one person wasn't it?' He looked piteous and pocketed the vial as he made his way towards Will who was once again speechless. 'You need to apologise. Starting with Tessa.

'Now.'


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey dudes! I now have finished chapter four. There's not much to say except to enjoy! :D**

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare. **

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><p>-Potions-<p>

His heart was an irregular thundering metronome. His pulse blasting in his ears. His hands- which were on their way to healing -were shaking. Never had Will Herondale been so nervous in his entire life.

It was ironic how he'd faced so many demons of different kinds, not fearing them the least bit. Even if they had rows of serrated teeth or poisonous tongues. Yet, it was a _girl_ whom had gotten to him, twisting his stomach and making his throat dry. It was her presence that scared him.

He stood outside her bedroom, alone. Jem had dragged him downstairs berating him at the same time. He had now retired somewhere else, telling him to get it over with.

Will gulped and raised his fist to knock on her door. Three knocks. No reply.

_She must be asleep_, he thought as he turned to leave. However, just as he was about to retire to the attic, he heard a tiny voice whisper his name and, before he knew it, he had opened her door.

The light from the corridor cut through the darkness of her room and, not wanting to wake her, Will slipped through quickly then shut the door. The room would have been completely dark if it wasn't for the moonlight that filtered through her window, illuminating her sleeping figure. The light made her skin look pale and made her even more beautiful.

Will unconsciously made his way towards her. As he got closer, he saw her restless face. Her curls had stuck to her temples and cheeks and there was a crease to her eyebrows. He could notice the way her lips slightly trembled and how her eyes looked swollen. She had cried. 'Will...' she whispered once again.

He sighed heavily. _I'm not right for you Tessa. I keep trying to show that and yet, you still care for me_, he thought. Slowly, he reached out to touch her. His fingers met the cool, slightly damp surface of her skin and he felt a tingling feeling at the tips of his fingers. It was as if needles were prickling his fingers or electricity was being shot through him, or both. Will was about to pull his hand back and go, but her eyes had opened.

'Will?' She asked then her eyes shifted everywhere. He pulled his hand back instantly, accidentally regaining her attention. She looked at him and he looked back at her. Slowly, she sat up straight, clutching the blankets to her heart. They stared at each other.

_Get mad at me. You're supposed to be mad at me. Don't you remember?_ Will thought as none of them spoke. Then, he remembered that _he_ had come to her room and that it was _he_ who had something to say. 'Tessa...' he began, but the rest of the words got stuck at his throat. He tried once more. 'Tess, I'm-' he took a deep breath in, '-sorry.'

She stared at him for a few more seconds. Then, she smiled the smallest of smiles. His heart almost stopped at it. 'I wish you were real.' She said and Will was dumbfounded by her words.

'I am real.' Will said as Tessa reached out with her hand and touched his face. He froze at her touch and he felt that electrifying, needle-pricking sensation once again. 'Tess, what do you mean?' He asked as his face leaned into her hand.

She smiled. 'You're just a dream aren't you?' Her sweet words were like a sword to his heart and he froze in realisation.

Of course she'll say he was just a dream. He would never do this in real life. He wouldn't say sorry to her and he wouldn't touch her. He wouldn't even look at her.

But alas, it was all a dream because he was doing the exact opposite of everything he did in real life. It was a sick feeling and what made it worse is that she seemed so willingly open to him and it was only because she still thought she was dreaming. It was not fair.

So he sought to make it fair.

He smiled as he took her hand in his. 'Yes. I am but a dream,' he pushed back the hysteria in his voice. It was so unlike him, but he didn't care. He absolutely did not care even if anyone could overhear their conversation, he would not care.

He kissed her hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: *sighs heavily* You know that feeling of ease when you finish something? I'm going through that. **

**This is the last chapter.**

**I would just like to thank everyone whom have supported this story/reviewed/favourited/story alerted. I'm so grateful. You make me feel happy. I hope that this last chapter is good and that you like it. Thank you so much everyone. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare.**

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><p>-Potions-<p>

He closed the door to her room behind him, the sound of the door clicking into place echoing in his 'hollow'- as she put it -heart. He stared at the ground, his hand still over the doorknob, while thinking over and over about what he was about to do, how he was going to do it and how he was going to slap himself every time a part of him cried out for him to stop and think. What he was about to do was the right thing. The damage he's caused cannot be undone nor fixed. Their hearts were now ruptured and destroyed. Apologies cannot magically mend them back to working condition.

William Herondale has made his resolve.

He looked back at the door. It was as if he could look past it and see the sleeping figure inside. So silent and courageous his Tessa was. He would forever be grateful that she had told him the truth that night or else, things would've been worse. He touched the door- the barrier -lightly, wishing he could go inside again, but it seemed to glare at him and speak. '_Go._' It said.

Unwillingly, he tore himself away from Tessa's door and turned to Jem's. His hand met the cool surface of the doorknob and turned it. The door cracked open, light a dagger slicing the darkness. Will squinted through the shadows and his eyes finally met his friend's dormant form. Jem must've gone back to his bedroom while he was talking to Tessa.

Jem was pale, but strong. He'd be there for his Tessa because he loved her too and Will was glad that he loved her. They would complete each other. Make each other happy. He just hoped that they'll find Jem's cure one day then they'd be happier. Will looked at his friend sincerely then whispered something under his breath and closed the door.

He walked back to his bedroom, memories filling his head. His adventures, Henry's grin, Charlotte's kindness, Jessamine's complaints, Sophie's diligence, Agatha's laughter, Thomas' amused eyes, Jem's company, Tessa's smile. His past and his family. He would miss them all. Good memories stashed away in an unlikely house. A house in the form of an abandoned church. A house that was more of a fortress than a place where people eat, sleep and spend most of their daily lives in. But to Will, it was a house if not a special one.

He looked around him as he beheld the Institute. It was quiet, peaceful. The witchlight casting a warm, guiding glow. It was a wonderful place. He would miss it too. He let his hand trail over the cracks in the walls, his movement casting long shadows down the corridors. He turned a corner and had finally gripped his doorknob, twisted it and disappeared into his bedroom.

Once he was inside, he made his way to his desk where his writing equipment lay. He sat down, took a piece of paper and a fountain pen and wrote. His thoughts spilled into the paper in the form of inky black curls. His words he wanted to speak out loud finally let themselves out in the most unlikely way. He wrote quickly, as if it was of the utmost urgency he finished writing before the crack of dawn which was, as he looked at the grandfather clock, only a few hours away. After all, he really did have a lot to write about.

Once he finished, a pile of letters were on his desk and his arm was sore. He looked back at the clock and was glad to find he had an hour and a half left before dawn. He took the letters and left his room. He spent the next ten minutes walking around the Institute like a ghost, slotting in letters through the gap under their doors. Once he finished, he went back to his bedroom. He knew that writing letters instead of telling them upfront was cowardly, but that was the impression he wanted to leave. Besides, he could not face them.

William Herondale had four goals that early morning. The first was to continue his search for Mortmain and to stop him. The second was to search for Jem's cure. The third was to never forget the people sleeping under the Institute roof.

The last goal was the one that hurt the most.

To leave.

After he had collected his possessions, he showed himself out. He took his last walk down the winding hallways. He had visited the library as well and, in there, he found a pleasant discovery. He had picked up a ribbon Tessa had used that day to tie her hair. It was almost the same colour as her eyes. He pocketed it as he smiled.

He took one last look at the Institute and then he opened the great doors, made his way down the steps, through the gates and disappeared around the corner, unaware of the figure that stared after him, a letter in her shaking hands.

'Will...'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: First of all, I would like to thank you guys for supporting this story. I know I said it before, but I want to say it again. Anyways, the thing is that you asked me to continue because the ending didn't make sense. Therefore, I took your suggestions into consideration and continued. Although, this may be the last chapter once again. This is because I finally explain why Tessa did not run up to Will. I hope it makes sense this time but if you really want me to continue after this, tell me. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare.**

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><p>-Chapter Six-<p>

Her eyes flew open in the darkness and a feeling of hunger and sadness consumed her. She had known that it was a dream but for a mere hallucination her subconscious has conjured up, it felt so real. She felt happy. She felt complete. It was such as shame that something as good as that was so mercilessly snatched away from her, leaving behind an empty heart in a soul that is as good as dead. Tessa recounted her dream and, almost instantly, tears started to fall from her eyes. Her body shook, not because of the cold, but because of the pain that gripped her every time she remembered the way he had touched her, the way he had kissed her... The way he had said sorry for the things he'd done. She wished it was all real. She wished the delight she felt then was real.

_But it is not_, she cruelly reminded herself and Tessa hugged herself for warmth as she willed herself back to sleep. Although, it seems as if she would not be able to do that for a few more days. Undoubtedly, the dream would come back. By then, it would no longer be a gift, but a curse.

As the poor girl tried in vain to hold back her tears, suddenly, the sound of footsteps appeared. Tessa held her breath, wondering who it could be. She waited as the footsteps stopped right outside her door. Then, it started once again after a couple of seconds and disappeared.

She let out a careful breath she did not know she was holding. Her heart, which was racing, had begun to slow down to its usual pattern.

Tessa wondered who the footsteps belonged to. Moreover, she wondered who would be walking around the Institute that early in the morning. She thought that it was perhaps Sophie, but why would the girl wake up so early? Furthermore, the sun hasn't risen yet.

Finally, Tessa's curiosity got the better of her so she untangled herself from her bed sheets and heaved herself out of the bed. She walked towards her door and was about to yank it open hadn't it been for a flat rectangular shape lying on the floor. Tessa picked it up and realised it was a letter. She turned it over and saw the wax seal and fingered it. When she looked at her fingers, the seal had stuck to her skin.

_It's newly sealed_, Tessa thought and a jolt of realisation coursed through her.

Whoever was walking a few minutes ago, they must have stopped to slot the letter in through her door! Her heart raced once more and, hesitantly, she started to open the envelope as she made her way back to the bed. She was standing right in front of the window when she had taken the piece of paper out and unfolded it. The following words were like a spell for it froze her on the spot the moment her eyes had scanned them.

_Tess,_

_ Out of everything I have ever said or done to you, this is probably what I regret the most. I did not want to write this letter, knowing that it would only cause more pain to you as you read its contents. However, the remaining part of me that you believe is good had reminded me that leaving without at least a note, was worse than leaving itself. _

_ Yes, I am leaving. I do not regret that either. Do not worry. It's not you I'm running away from. I'm running away from what I __would__ do to you if I stayed. I'm running away from an inevitable future. A future that I can still change while I still have time and while I still have the power to do so. _

_ I knew what I was doing to you. I knew I was hurting you and I did not regret that either. But you must know I did that because I wanted you to stay away from me. I wish it wasn't this way, but it is. I'm not right for you. I'm a broken vase. I cannot be put back together again. Even your love cannot put me back together again. You cannot because I would cut you every time you tried. I don't want to cut you anymore Tess. _

_ Remember the night we rode to de Quincey's? Do you remember when I told you I pretend to be Sydney Carton during my darkest moments? Do you remember when you quoted your favourite book? 'And yet I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire.' I would like to tell you this as well Tess. As Sydney Carton told Lucie Manette. Although, it's not fair I told you this in the worst possible way. But, once again, I didn't have a choice. This is how it must be. _

_ I don't want to leave, but I have to. Please forgive me. Although, please don't follow me either. Don't look for me. I could be in a place where you'd get hurt. _

_ I watched you sleep tonight. I also visited you in your dreams. Tess, you're capable of doing great things. You have a heart of gold and you are strong. Stronger than I think I can ever be. It continually surprises me._

_ However, I still have a duty to protect you. Too long you have tried to help me battle my inner demons, even if you didn't know it yourself. It's time I helped you. _

_ I'll continue looking for Mortmain. When I do, I'll stop him. I shall also look for Jem's cure, even if that means I have to disregard his wishes. You're right, we shouldn't give up._

_ Finally, I want you to know that I haven't left completely. My heart would always stay with you because you are its rightful owner._

_Will _

A tear had fallen from her face and it fell on the letter where it caused the ink to smear. Then, she turned and walked towards the window, the letter still in her shaking hands.

A familiar figure had made their way down the Institute steps, passed the gates and disappeared around the corner. Tessa shook as she forced herself to move. To run after him.

But she couldn't. His words had made her temporarily paralysed. Instead, she could only speak. She could only say a name. A name that would forever be etched into her heart. A name that, whenever brought up in a conversation, would cause her to double over and feel as if she was drowning. A name that would always bring back the most memorable- and painful -memories of her entire life.

'Will...'


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: HEY! I'm back with the ending to this fanfic (it's over two chapters)! I just hope that you guys love it! If you hate it, tell me. I know it might not sound as good as expected, but this is how I envisioned things to end. Also, I'm having a writer's block. Five months! Five months I've been at school. That's enough to sap creative juices from me. The only thing I could do for the moment is take a rest. Exams have also left my brain out to dry (Okay, that was a weird sentence).**

**Anyways, this is it. I hope you do like it. Once again I thank everyone who has reviewed/favourited/alerted this fanfic. I love you for all your support.**

**Disclaimer: I am NOT Cassandra Clare. **

**P.S. CP is coming out in two days...**

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><p>-Chapter Seven-<p>

_A month later..._

In the horizon, the clouds remained a great mass of ominous grey. They are the closed doors to sunlight. Inside, the doors to thought and emotion were also closed. However, it wasn't just closed. It was locked and bricked up. This was how she lived everyday. It was punishment. She could've ran after him that morning, but she didn't.

That was her mistake.

She missed him. They missed him. He was a true devil, but they knew he was capable of goodness. All it took was a few letters.

Some called it cowardice. She called it an act of nobility. In those letters, he explained. He confessed. He... he showed he cared.

Charlotte's letter made her cry. Henry's made him laugh but shed a tear. Sophie's was a shock to her. Jessamine refused to read hers, but when Jem said her letter out loud to her, she looked like she was about to cry too.

Jem. Words couldn't describe how he felt. So he played. He played a song of farewell.

Farewell... That was when she realised they weren't coming after him.

She had wanted to thrash and around and scream. But, wasn't it her fault he's gone? That he's never coming back? She didn't stop him.

So she kept her mouth shut and abstained.

Tessa drew in a ragged breath as her tears threatened to spill over. Her hands shook. The world blurred. The light intensified. The shadows grew more sinister. The warlock then shook her head. To clear her mind. _Don't cry_. She pleaded. _Don't_. She bit down on her lip, hard, and looked for something to distract her.

Outside, a ball of fur sauntered towards the gates. Church then sat, scratched his ears, then stood up. He tilted his head, and ran off. He disappeared around the corner.

He didn't come back.

Tessa sighed. _I can't let him run off_. She stood to look for the cat.

* * *

><p>"Church?" she called out and flinched at her voice, once again. It sounded sore. It sounded... wrong.<p>

The girl sat on a nearby bench in defeat. The cat just wouldn't come out. Tessa looked up to see the gleaming green of the trees. She was in Hyde Park, on a familiar narrow path. The river was glistening beside it. In the distance, you could hear the people who filled the park; ladies waving with their fans, men chatting, horses neighing. And yet, there was no sound that indicated joy. In fact, she could hardly hear _anything_. Everything went out in its dreary state in London. Everything amounted to nothingness.

The warlock girl sighed as she looked around her. Around her, trees rustled to the cold breeze. The narrow path she was on ended in a cluster of wild trees. She considered taking her chances and looking for Church there. She then shook her head. The end of the path warned her to stay away. _I suppose I'll just ask for Jem to find him. After all, Church doesn't seem to_-

"NO!" the shrieking voice sent a chill up her spine and, instantly, she froze. Tessa gripped the wood of the bench as a bloodcurdling sound followed after the shriek, her nails digging in the wood. Her heart beat so fast it hurt. She knew this feeling. She knew this. Memories flooded her mind and she was suddenly reminded of a horrible incident that took place weeks ago. It was her and Jessamine and a goblin.

Tessa got to her feet within a fraction of a second. She backed away as the bloodcurdling sound ended. She was about to run when she heard another voice.

A voice unexpected. A voice she yearned to hear. One that she would give up her soul to listen to.

In the horizon, the doors opened. The light flooded over the dark streets of London. The winding alleyways were lit. The windows glistened. The Thames shone brilliantly. Tessa Gray rushed towards Will Herondale.

In the distance, she could see something blossom. She held her breath. She was so close. Five meters, four, three, in two more she'll make it to the cluster of trees. Then, branches whipped her face, leaving behind a stinging. But she was tenacious. She would never stop running even if the cluster of trees were endless.

But it did.

She burst out of the darkness and the flooding light blinded her. She fell into a pair of strong arms. She gasped. As her arms tightened wound around his neck she could see the colour of life seep back in. The monochrome was dissipating. She could hear sounds. She could hear her hysteria, but she could also hear happiness. She could finally hear happiness. She breathed in what was once lost, relishing in the pleasure. She found warmth. She could sense humanity for days of her lifeless existence were fast disappearing. With humanity, she can sense passion.

But she can also sense him pulling away.

"No. Please don't," her voice cracked as she begged him. "Please-"

"Tess-"

"Will?" she made another mistake. Her distraction gave him enough time to pry off her arms, but when she realised it, she let go and slapped him. "STOP IT!" she yelled as he stared at her, his left cheek starting to redden. He looked shocked.

He looked sick. There were shadows under his eyes. As if he lacked sleep. His cheekbones were also more pronounced and he looked thinner as if he hadn't eaten properly. His dark hair fell on his eyes. Tessa reached up to brush them away, to see the blueness that was under them. However, she was disappointed to see that, when she had drawn back the curtains, there was no life in his eyes. No glint.

It was Will. But, he wasn't the boy that mocked people. He wasn't the boy with the amused smirks, the sarcastic remarks. No. This Will. He's even more desperate than the previous one. He seemed to look for something. At first, Tessa was lost, but as he, helpless, pulled her back to him, she realised that he was looking for her as she was looking for him.

The sweetness seemed to last forever. There was a dizzying joy. A sense of delight and relief. The world was upside down, but it righted itself. Punctured hearts were closed. Numb minds were refreshed. Everything was right. They could've stayed like that forever, but, this time, he realised his mistake.

He pulled away and started running off.

But the girl learned her lesson and ran after him. "WILL!" the darkness was returning, the sound was fading. Colours were disappearing as the distance between them widened. The earth was tilting again.

Out of nowhere, Church shot forward and clung onto Will's arm. The cat hung on his arm as spots of red bloomed on his shirtsleeve. "DAMN IT!" Tessa smiled at the familiar sound. "Stupid cat! GET OFF ME!" Will tried shaking him off. But by the time Church dropped down, Tessa has gripped his arm. Will looked at her in desperation. "Tessa, please."

"NO!" the firmness of her voice seemed to surprise him. "You are coming home! Look at you!" she gestured to him. He was dressed rather nicely, but she was gesturing to his health. He really did look sick. "You look terrible! And your arm's bleeding! And, why are you carrying a seraph blade?"

Will sighed through his teeth. "In case you didn't know, I was asking someone for directions." His voice sounded harsh, but that wouldn't work on her anymore. She knew deep inside her that he would _never_ hate her.

"Will. Charlotte's been crying everyday for the past month since you left! Didn't you say that you cared for her as well! Now let's go home and please right the wrongs!"

"Tessa, I'm not welcome anymore." He sighed as he sheathed his seraph blade. "I've hurt them. Maybe she's crying in joy."

"Stop saying that! I know you don't mean it." Will opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Deep inside her, she was panicking. She couldn't keep talking to him. Soon enough, he'll run away and she'd never see him again. Tessa knew she had to give him a reason to stay. Something that's really important-

Tessa's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. "Jem's dying Will."

* * *

><p>The carriage rolled towards the Institute gates. Once it reached the entrance. Jem opened the door and jumped off. Charlotte and Henry followed after. The Institute was hollow. Like it has been for the past month. It was a hard time for them.<p>

"That was quite successful." Henry said in an effort to cut through the dreadful silence and spark a conversation. "We got a new lead." He pulled up a smile, but Charlotte remained morose. She was mourning.

Jem didn't want Henry to feel lonely. "It was, wasn't it?" He smiled at him before opening the Institute doors.

Suddenly, Jem heard Charlotte take in a sharp breath and saw Henry's eyes widen. The boy turned towards the Institute as he heard a lost voice come back and fill empty spaces. He heard the sound of friendship. Of nights training together. Of sharing coded looks. Of amusing each other about the petty life of Gabriel Lightwood. "You said he was dying! He doesn't even look sick."

"If anything, you're the one who looks sick." Jessamine sniffed as Will gave her an irritated look. Jem couldn't help but agree with Jessamine. Will looked thinner and he looked tired. His right arm also seemed to be bleeding. From where he was, Jem could see scratch marks.

"Oh, in the name of the Angel." Charlotte had her demon-ichor-covered hand to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. "He's home." Jem watched his _parabatai_'s expression at Charlotte's words. He wasn't shocked to see Will look... pained. "Will..." Charlotte sobbed. She looked like she was about to fall to the floor in disbelief. Behind Charlotte, Henry stepped forward and smiled at Will.

"Good to have you back, son." Henry said and Will's eyes met the floor. Then, his blue eyes looked up at Jem. There was something in them that was looking for repentance. The other boy found it ridiculous.

Jem shook his head as he went up to Will and teasingly punched him in the shoulder. "It's about time, xiōngdì. I just can't keep off those Shax demons without you."


	8. Epilogue

**A/N: If, for some reason, you agree with me that, Will doesn't sound so badass in this Epilogue please listen to the following so you will not be confused. **

**The guy went through a change of perspective. **

**Hoe you like this epilogue! Once again, thank you all. :D**

**Disclaimer: I am NOT Cassandra Clare.**

* * *

><p>-Epilogue-<p>

_A week later..._

It was dark and the moon shone among the velvety night sky. He remembered the last time he went to the cemetery. He was sent on a mission and he was desperate then. This time, he just wanted to talk to Old Molly about something really important.

He held the bronze knocker and let it fall three times. He waited at the iron gate as the blue mist arrived, reformed and turned into Old Molly. The woman's head rose and the twin blue fire in her eyes lit up. "Hallo, Mol. Long time no see?" he smiled at the ghost who grinned at him.

"Yes, it has been quite a long time William." The ghost gave him a skeptical look. "What d'you want now? Hmm?" She smiled, showing off her set of rotten teeth. "More 'atred potions, I s'pose," she crossed her arms in front of her.

Will smiled. "No. I would just like to give this back to you Mol." He reached in his pocket and took out the vial. He threw it to Old Molly who took it. She frowned at the empty vial. "Just wanted to say that you should _never_ give a potion like that to somebody again." Will turned to leave. "I'll see you later, Mol."

The ghost called after him before he left. "William Herondale," the boy turned. Old Molly gave him the smile. "You look like a great burden has been relieved from your shoulders."

"It has been Mol." Will grinned before leaving. "I hope you find your talisman soon." He whispered as he walked back to the Institute.

* * *

><p>The doors to the Institute closed behind him and Will made his way towards the library.<p>

The hallways were brightly lit with witchlight. Once again, they guided him towards the place he most wanted to be right then.

On his way, he heard Jem playing. T_hank God he wasn't feeling that sick_. He almost had a heart attack when Tessa told him he was dying. Will listened in to the song. He never liked the way Jem played the violin. It wasn't that he found him a terrible musician. He was a wonderful musician. Will just didn't like the songs he played. _At __least __I__'__m __not __listening __in __to __silence_. He told himself.

Finally, he reached the library and the doors swung open in welcome. There, sitting on one of the chairs, Tessa preoccupied herself with a thick book. At her feet, Church slept. Will couldn't be any more grateful to the cat. Apparently, it was because of him that Tessa was in Hyde Park last week. _Well, I still hate him for scratching me_.

The boy walked forward, a smile on his face. He sat next to her. She didn't look up. "What are you reading?"

Tessa took a deep breath in. "_He was still a long way from home when his father saw him; his heart was filled with pity, and he ran, threw his arms around his son, and kissed him. 'Father', the son said, 'I have sinned against God and against you. I am no longer fit to be called your son.' But the father called to his servants. 'Hurry!' he said. 'Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Then go and get the prize calf and kill it, and let us celebrate with a feast! For this son of mine was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.__'_" Will gave her a raised eyebrow.

"The Bible?" Tessa shook her head as she closed the sacred book and placed it beside her. "Why were you reading that?"

"I wanted to," Will didn't believe her, "and Aunt Harriet used to read parables to me. This one reminded me of you. When you were gone and you decided to stay." Her sentence _almost_ ended in a solemn voice.

"I am sorry." He whispered as he took her hands. Their eyes met and Will could feel the heat rise up to his cheeks. Like they always did when she was inches away from him. He always asked himself how she could forgive him. But she did, and, as she said, that was all that mattered.

"Don't say sorry." Tessa smiled and it encouraged Will to take her in his arms.

Even if they were together now, privacy was hard to achieve. Even Church was there. But, it'll have to do. Will realised, during his time away from them, that you should spend your time with people that mattered to you. He gave her his best heart-stopping smile. "I bet you're right glad I came back." Tessa laughed, the sound echoing throughout the Institute.

He relished in the sweet moments.


End file.
